Deadly Idioms
by andi839
Summary: Chaos abounds in an NCIS universe where idioms can be more than just words.  Written for the NFA Crack!Death!Fic! Challenge.  Therefore, WARNINGS:  Multiple character deaths and Crack!fic.
1. Dressed to Kill

Rating: FR13  
Characters in order of appearance: Jenny, Tony, Gibbs, Ziva, Jeanne Benoit, Le Grenouille, Ducky, Tim, Jimmy, Abby, and Vance.  
Genres: Crack!fic  
Challenge: Crack!Death!Fic! Challenge

Warnings: multiple character deaths  
Summary: Chaos abounds in an NCIS universe where idioms can be more than just words.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or its characters.

Part 1: Dressed to Kill

NCIS Director Jennifer Shepard stood in front of the dressing room mirror and smiled. The outfit was just about right; those men wouldn't know what hit them. Knowing how ambitious her daughter was, Rebekah Shepard had passed this technique on to Jenny. It could be deadly, so she'd strongly cautioned Jenny to use it only in the most desperate of circumstances. She had used it only once, when an undercover operation had gone bad in Bosnia. The results had been devastating. Jethro had been stunned and made her promise never to use it again. Normally, she would honor that promise, but these were desperate times. Budget cuts were looming and with NCIS at the bottom of the armed fed food chain she had to do something to gain the upper hand during the financial planning meeting.

She glanced at her stockings; maybe they were too much. A black pair would be better; they would draw some attention away from the skirt. She turned and considered her ensemble. Yes, the black would be best; after all, she didn't want a lethal effect—this time. Jenny moved to the door to call for the attendant to bring her a new pair.

Opening the door, she found Tony waiting outside. "Nice… dress… Madame… Direct…" he managed to gasp as he clutched his chest and fell to the ground.

"Oh, Fudge!" Jenny forgot that she'd asked Tony to meet her here to discuss his undercover work. Gibbs had been insistent she tell him about Tony's assignment and she'd been evasive. He was not a patient man, and she wouldn't put it beyond him to have Ziva to bug her office to find out what he wanted to know.

Jenny bent down to check his pulse. "Peanut Brittle!" She swore. She knew she'd miscalculated the effect and as a result Tony was gone. Now what was she going to do?

Taking first things first, she pulled Tony into the dressing room to preserve some privacy. Then, she called Gibbs.

"_Gibbs."_

"Jethro, it's Jen. I have a situation and I need you."

"Why don't you ask DiNozzo for help. Or do you have him out on some other assignment? Maybe picking up your dry-cleaning?"

"If I'd wanted Agent DiNozzo, I would have called him." Jenny looked down at Tony's sightless eyes.

"_Oh, so you want me to pick up your dry-cleaning. Well, you'll have to excuse me Jen. Some of us have work to do."_ Gibbs' sarcasm was razor sharp.

"That was uncalled for, Special Agent Gibbs. Moderate your tone." Jen wiped the blood off of her ear.

"_What do you need?"_ His tone softened only the slightest amount.

"I need you and Officer David to bring your full kit here to process a crime scene. I expect to see you in half an hour. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, Director."

That accomplished, Jenny sat down to wait. She looked at Tony; really looked at him for the first time since this debacle began. Unlike her previous victims, there was almost a peaceful look on his face. It didn't look like his death had been painful. That was a relief.

Jenny was not looking forward to dealing with Gibbs. When he discovered what had happened to his agent he would be outraged. She knew she would have to explain herself and answer his questions, but this high-end boutique was not the place to do it. Jenny considered for a moment and decided to leave the outfit on, but modified by different accessories. If she tweaked it a little, she'd be able to control him until they returned to NCIS. She called the sales girl to the door.


	2. If Looks Could Kill

Part 2: If Looks Could Kill

Jenny was just finished when there came a knock on the dressing room door. She checked to be certain Tony couldn't be seen and opened the door slightly to greet Gibbs and Ziva.

"Jenny, you didn't…" Gibbs managed to say before falling to the floor.

"Pistachio Pudding!" She'd miscalculated again. Jenny reached out to check his pulse and sighed with relief. Gibbs would have a knot on his head, but he was still breathing.

Ziva had drawn her weapon and was looking around for something that would explain Gibbs' collapse. "Is he okay? What happened?"

"He'll be fine. It was just a bit too much for him."

"What was?"

"It's an old family secret, I was preparing to use it at the upcoming agency directors meeting." Jenny rubbed her forehead wearily.

"What did you do?" Ziva pursued as she holstered her weapon.

"My mother taught me how to create certain reactions in men using only my attire."

"That sounds interesting. Would you teach me?" Ziva's eyes sparkled.

"Later, we have other things to deal with right now." Jenny moved back into the dressing room to change into her own clothes.

"Why did you call us? Were you just curious to see if your technique worked?" Ziva asked through the door.

"No, there was an accident here earlier."

"What kind of accident?"

Jenny answered by swinging the door open completely.

"Tony!" But the cry wasn't from Ziva who stood speechless. A brunette with a horrified expression dropped the clothing she was carrying to rush forward. "What happened to him?"

"You! You're his mystery woman." Ziva regained control of her voice.

"Who are you? What did you do to him?" The woman, Jeanne Benoit, checked for signs of life in Tony.

"I'm his partner."

"Partner? Professors have partners? What kind of program is that?" Jeanne was confused.

"Professor?" Now Ziva was confused.

"Rhubarb Pie!" Jenny mentally swore as she saw her operation go up in smoke.

"He's Dr. Tony DiNardo, film professor and my boyfriend." Jeanne was beginning to act defensively.

"No, he's Tony DiNozzo, NCIS special agent. Evidently you were the secret assignment he's been keeping from us." Ziva had a pitying look in her eye.

"Are you kidding? I'm a doctor, not a drug dealer. You've made some mistake. I'm not some assignment to him, Tony loves me."

"A good agent would never fall in love with his mark. Tony must be using you for some reason." Ziva turned to look at Jenny who winced. Ziva definitely needed to work on her method of handling distraught women.

"Using me! Why… How… Where…" Jeanne was rendered inarticulate.

"Which one of those questions would you like to have answered?" Ziva's calm demeanor further infuriated Jeanne.

As the argument continued, Jenny watched Jeanne and she became disturbed. Jeanne's face had changed from grief stricken to angry and now it was something beyond angry. The loathing on her face was an almost tangible thing and Jenny began to worry. She needed to step in before this escalated. "Ladies."

Suddenly, laser beams shot from Jeanne's eyes hitting Ziva in the chest. Ziva was unprepared for the attack, but managed to pull her pistol out and squeeze off a few rounds. Before Jenny could react, both women were lying unresponsive on the floor, Jeanne bleeding from two shots in the center of her chest and Ziva with burns covering her torso. Jeanne's aim had been wild; nevertheless as Jenny reached out to check Ziva's pulse, she found it to be effective. Now she had three bodies on her hands and an unconscious team leader. Could this day get any worse?


	3. Out of His Mind With Grief

Part 3: Out of His Mind With Grief

"Jen?" Gibbs was waking up and trying to process his surroundings. "Jen, what did you do? Who is this woman? What happened? Ziva! Is she…?"

"It's a long story, Jethro."

"Give me the short version." He looked around wildly and spotted the body in the dressing room. "Tony! Jen, did you…?"

She backed away from his accusing glare. "I was choosing a special outfit for the budget meeting with the other federal agencies and Tony got the full force of my choice of ensemble choice."

"Why didn't I?"

"I changed my stockings."

"Candy Corn, Jen! What did I tell you about that?"

"I was careful! I didn't know Tony would be lurking outside of my dressing room!"

"What's the story with them?" He pointed to the bodies of Ziva and Jeanne. "Who's the brunette?"

"That's Dr. Jeanne Benoit, daughter of arms dealer Le Grenouille. Tony's undercover assignment had been to get close to her to see if she had any information about her father's activities. She became upset when Ziva explained to her that Tony was a federal agent. She did this thing with her eyes…" Jenny tried to find words to describe what had happened.

"I've seen burns like that before, in Kuwait. A local man became angry with us; I lost a couple of good friends that day."

They were staring wordlessly at the bodies when they heard a voice at the door.

"Jeanne? Are you ready to show me your pretty dress?" The voice belonged to Jeanne's father, Rene Benoit, also known as the arms dealer Le Grenouille, Jenny's nemesis.

"Le Grenouille!" Jenny hissed.

"I'll deal with your frog." Gibbs ordered. "You've caused enough damage today. Let's move Ziva in with Tony."

"Jeanne? Mi Niña Hermosa?" Benoit called again.

"I thought you were supposed to be French." Gibbs said in a stage whisper through the door.

"Oh, yes. Sorry!" The frog whispered back; in a normal voice he called again. "Ma cherie?"

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Why don't you just come in?"

A cold look descended on Le Grenouille's face when he identified the people on the other side of the door. "Ah, Madame Director! We meet again."

"What are you doing here?" Gibbs spoke before Jenny could.

"I came here with my daughter. She will accompany me to a meeting later this week and she wished to have a special outfit for the occasion."

"So, it's take-your-daughter-to-work day for the criminal element this week?" Jen asked with false sweetness.

"She wanted to meet one of the men to whom I supply wine. He's quite famous." He said mildly. "Where is Jeanne?"

Wordlessly, Gibbs moved aside with Jenny to expose Jeanne's body.

The effect on Le Grenouille was dramatic and immediate. "No! Oh, no! Not Jeanne!" He wailed in a key his listeners had never heard before. Then his face slackened and he fell limply to the floor. They watched in horrified fascination as a gray substance oozed out of his ears, nose, and mouth.

"He's dead." Jenny broke the silence after a few minutes.

"Yep."

"It's not quite as satisfying as I thought it would be."

"Nope."

"I wonder how they'll get the stains out of the carpet."

"Ms. Shepard? Ms. Benoit? Can I help either of you?" The sales girl chose this rather inopportune time to check on her customers.

"Now what?" Jenny whispered.

"Stand back and close your eyes." Gibbs muttered as he unzipped his coat.

Jen heard the woman sputter, "What's… going… on…" followed by a thud.

There were sounds of a zipper closing then Gibbs said, "You can look now."

She opened eyes to see the girl crumpled on the floor. "Jethro?"

"I paid attention in Bosnia." He pulled out his phone. "That should keep her for awhile. We need to get this cleaned up before someone else becomes involved."


	4. Broken Hearted

Part 4: Broken Hearted

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the song _How Can You Mend a Broken Heart _by Barry and Robin Gibb.

In autopsy, Ducky was just finishing up with his latest patient while giving him some sage advice, "…and try not to let her talk your ear off again. There will be scars if I have to reattach it many more times."

As Ducky put away his equipment, Tim said in a low tone to Jimmy. "How do you manage?"

Jimmy looked nervously at Ducky's back and whispered. "I'm getting pretty good at fixing the damage myself. I've attached Velcro to mine for emergencies."

"Where is he? Is he okay?" Abby rushed into the room and caught sight of Tim. "Timmy I swear I didn't mean to do that to you again, but I couldn't not tell you about that seminar at the last conference I attended about forensic DNA techniques and that reminded me of something Sister Rosita said, that I'd been meaning to tell you because you might find the _pro bono_ work…"

"Enough, Abigail!" Ducky stopped her. "He's going to be sensitive for the next few days. Please, speak quietly and slowly."

"Can I give him a hug?"

"Just be careful you don't squeeze him to death." Jimmy snorted. When no one else laughed, he looked around at the others' pained expressions. "What?"

Ducky took Jimmy aside. "Please don't bring that up, my boy."

"It was only a joke."

"I know you meant it that way, but did you ever wonder what happened to Cassie Yates?"

"I assumed she'd been transferred."

Ducky shook his head and shot a significant look at Abby who was talking with exaggerated slowness to McGee.

"No, you aren't serious. That isn't…"

He was interrupted by the ringing of Ducky's phone. "Ah, Jethro! How are you?"

"No time for small talk, Duck. Need you here pronto to deal with a couple of bodies. Bring Palmer and McGee with you."

"Ah, you have a crime scene. Are Ziva and Tony with you already?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"What does that mean?"

"They're part of the crime scene."

"Good heavens, Jethro! What happened to them?"

"No time to talk now. I'll explain it to you when you get here."

"We'll be right there." Ducky turned and saw the others staring at him. They knew.

"Who is it?" Tim managed to ask.

"I'm afraid Tony and Ziva are gone."

Abby put her hand over her mouth, made a small choking sound and fell to the ground.

"Abby?" Tim fell to his knees beside her.

Ducky joined him and checked her pulse. "Tim help me; she needs CPR."

After thirty minutes of CPR, with the three men taking turns in the attempt to revive her, Abby's heart was still not beating.

Tim rocked back on his heals with tears in his eyes. "It's no use."

"Don't give up on her just yet, my boy." Ducky continued the compressions.

"It's been thirty minutes and her heart isn't beating."

"She could still be revived. I know of a tribal leader in Irian Jaya…"

"Ducky please, don't give me false hope."

"I won't do that, but would you give up on her with out at least trying? Jimmy, bring that X-ray equipment over here."

As Jimmy pulled over the machine, Ducky gave him instructions. "Put it on the Polaroid setting. We need those pictures as soon as possible."

The X-ray was taken and the film spooled out of the machine with a whirring noise. It was blank, but within a few moments a picture began to emerge.

Ducky stuck it up on the light board. "Oh, dear. I'm afraid she is beyond our help. What do you see here, Timothy?"

"It looks like her heart actually split in half. Are you sure we can't fix it?" Tim turned to the M.E. imploringly.

The lights dimmed and a spotlight beamed down on Jimmy who was at a piano playing softly. Ducky walked into another spotlight, grasped a microphone, and began to croon.

_How can you mend a broken heart?_

_How can you stop the rain from falling down?_

_How can you stop the sun from shining?_

_What makes the world go round?_

_How can you mend this broken man?_

_How can a loser ever win?_

_Please help me mend my broken heart _

_And let me live again._

The lights returned to normal, and Ducky walked over to Tim. "Despite the hope the expressed by the composers of this song, I'm afraid it is an impossible task. Now, we need to let her go and take care of your teammates.


	5. Crushed by the Weight of Her Guilt

Part 5: Crushed by the Weight of Her Guilt

Several hours later, a subdued director and a somber team leader returned to NCIS after paying a visit to the Israeli embassy to inform Ziva's countrymen of her passing and a visit to the FBI to arrange for the use of their forensics experts until the time when NCIS would have found a replacement for Abby. As Jenny made her way up to her office, Gibbs turned to the bullpen and the remaining member of his team. Without a word he nodded to Tim, sank into his seat, and stared at his computer.

Tim debated with himself as to whether he should speak with Gibbs. On the one hand, he wanted to offer consolation; the two agents and forensic scientist had been like children to Gibbs. On the other hand, there was no way he would ever find the right words to say at a time like this. But on the next hand, if there were ever any time that Gibbs would open up, it would be now when the losses were so fresh. But on the hand after that, Gibbs could have learned the evil eye from some tribal witch doctor and …

"McGee, when did you grow extra arms?"

Tim looked down at the hands he'd been using to weigh his options and blushed. Two new arms had sprouted from his sides. Hiding the extra appendages behind his back he decided to speak.

"We did everything we could for Abby, boss, but as soon as she heard the news, she was gone. Now that Ducky's had some time to review the X-rays, he sees evidence that this was a disaster waiting to happen; the cracks had been there for a while. He dates the earliest ones to the time of Kate's passing and they seem to have deepened when Cassie died. There was already too much damage to her heart to sustain her when she heard today's news."

"She always said she'd go nuts if another one of us got hurt. I was expecting her to be in a straitjacket when we returned, not in autopsy." Gibbs still wouldn't look up from his computer.

There was a moment of silence before Tim spoke again. "I'm sorry about Ziva. I've read about radiant occularitia, and it isn't an easy way to die. But what about Tony, do you think he felt any pain?"

"He was grinning like a goat eating briars when I saw him. He's probably not even aware he's dead, yet."

"Well, if he could have chosen, I'm sure Tony would have liked to go that way." Tim's voice wavered a little, so he paused to get it under control. "It's been a bad day."

"When it rains it pours." Instantly they heard a crash of lightning, then the sky grew dark and a torrent of rain came pouring down.

"That's strange." Tim stared at the suddenly black sky.

"No, it's overdue. To fit the mood of the day, it should have been raining hours ago."

"How is the director?"

"She's not saying much. I think she's feeling responsible for the deaths of Tony and Ziva and maybe even Jeanne Benoit because she called for the meeting that set off this chain of events."

"Who knew a simple shopping trip would turn into a quadruple homicide?" Tim asked rhetorically. "What are we going to do about the cases?"

"Since I was present, we can't work on the deaths of Ziva, Jeanne Benoit, or Le Grenouille. Strombakis' team is going to take those investigations; they should be simple enough. Footage from a security camera in the shop shows Jeanne Benoit attacking Ziva. And as strange as his death was, Ducky should be able to confirm that Le Grenouille died of natural causes."

"Natural?" Tim was skeptical.

"He can at least confirm that neither Jenny nor I had anything to do with it." Gibbs continued. "We need to look into Tony's death. I don't want to leave it up to IA, some of those guys…"

Gibbs was cut off by loud crash. The men stared at each other and Tim spoke first. "That wasn't thunder."

"Come on, it came from Jenny's office." Gibbs started to run.

"How could we have heard it all the way down here?" Tim was confused.

"Don't wonder, just run."

They reached the director's office, threw open the door, and skidded to a halt in front of her desk.

"Marshmallows!" Tim turned green and looked away.

"Chocolate Bars!" Gibbs turned white and couldn't stop staring.

A figure recognizable as the director only by the clothes she wore was crushed beneath an anvil. Gibbs looked around the room. There was no evidence of anything else unusual; everything was in order except for the area around the desk. He walked closer to look at the anvil and to see how it had been suspended. There were no wires or ropes visible, so he turned to the anvil itself. It seemed to be a standard blacksmith's tool, but it bore the inscription "Acme Anvils: Guilt Model."

"McGee, call Ducky. We've another crime scene to process." Gibbs said heavily.


	6. Drowning in His Sorrow

Part 6: Drowning in His Sorrow

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the song _Heffalumps and Woozels_ written by Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman; I was just inspired by the Disney film _Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day_.

Tim came in dripping wet from walking his dog in the storm that had yet to abate. He'd returned to his apartment exhausted from processing the multiple crime scenes, only to be greeted by Jethro who was eager to take a walk.

After drying off Jethro and getting him something to eat, Tim collapsed on the bed. The superglue on his ear was still bothering him and he fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were filled with images of his friends as he'd last seen them—Tony with his eyes fixed and blank, Ziva burnt badly, Jenny mangled beyond recognition, and Abby lying cold and still on the floor of autopsy. They seemed to be trying to tell him something, but in his dream the volume wasn't high enough to hear their words. Suddenly, there was a shout, "Beware!"

_Beware, Beware, Be a very wary bear._

Then Tim's dream was filled with music. He was transported to an animated version of autopsy where the tables and stands were waving scalpels and spinning around on their wheels. The doors to the autopsy drawers began to open and shut like valves on huge calliope whistles as the song continued.

_A Heffalump or Woozle is very confusel.  
The Heffalump or woosel is very sly  
- sly - sly – sly.  
They come in ones and twoosels,  
But if they so choosels  
Before your eyes you'll see them multiply  
- ply - ply – ply.  
_

As the song continued, each of the people lying in those drawers popped into the room and began to sing. They surrounded him and began to shift into different shapes like monstrous amoebas while they changed colors as quickly as his pretty cousin Isabella changed boyfriends.

_They're green, they're blue, they're pink, they're white.  
They're round, they're square, they're a terrible sight.  
They tie themselves in horrible knots,  
They come in stripes or polka-dots._

_Beware, Beware, Be a very wary bear.  
_  
The bodies paired off and began a bizarre dance, spinning and dipping as they moved around the room. Le Grenouille, with blood and brain spattered all over his once pristine white suit, held the crumpled arm of Director Shepherd at an odd angle while he twirled her around, one of her legs dragging behind them. Tony dancing with Jeanne looked almost normal, but as they passed him, Tim could see the holes in her chest.

_They're black, they're brown, they're up, they're down._  
_They're in, they're out, they're all about._  
_They're far, they're near, they're gone, they're here._  
_They're quick and slick and insincere._  
_Beware, Beware, Beware, Beware, Beware ..._

Tim woke with a start. He checked the clock; it was 0400 hours. Normally he would have tried to go back to sleep, but that kind of rest was worse than no sleep at all. Instead, Tim decided to visit Gibbs. His door was always open and the former marine would be awake soon.

When Tim arrived at Gibbs' home he saw no light on the first floor, but the bulb in the basement stairwell was flickering. He followed it downstairs and whistled. It had been quite some time since he'd seen the boat Gibbs was working on and now it was complete. Impressed with the craftsmanship, he ran his hand over the wood. Tim stopped when he reached the name: _Sorrow_. He nodded sadly. After a day like the one they'd had, Gibbs wouldn't be able to pick just one person to commemorate.

There was a dripping sound that had been bothering him since he'd entered the basement. The heavy rains had caused flooding in several parts of the city, but Gibbs' home shouldn't have been affected. Tim began to look around for the source of the sound. He rounded the back of the boat, looked in, and fell backwards. Tim found the leak; water was dripping from the pipes in the ceiling above the boat. Enough had fallen to fill the boat with water and there was Gibbs floating face down in it. He must have fallen asleep in his boat and drowned as the water covered his face.

With shaking hands, Tim pulled out his phone and dialed. "Ducky?"

"_Timothy? What are you doing up so early?"_ It sounded as if the call had woken the medical examiner.

"I'm at Gibbs' home. Ducky, he's gone."

_"What, has he left for Mexico again? I can't imagine why he'd leave now. I would have expected him to stay and head the investigation into Tony's death. Certainly he wouldn't go before…"_

"Ducky, he didn't leave; he's dead."

_"Oh, my."_

"Ducky, what's happening to us? We're dropping like flies." Tim bumped into a spider web as he was pacing and dislodged a number of dead insects. In revulsion, he shook his head to get them out of his hair, but his motions were too vigorous and he fell to the ground.

When he put the phone back up to his ear, Ducky was saying, _"…and I'll wake up Jimmy. We'll be over there in a jiffy. Until then, just lay low, my boy."_

"No problem." Tim said flatly from where he'd landed.


	7. Buried Under a Mountain of Paperwork

I want to thank everyone for the reviews! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you are enjoying reading it. (Chapter 6 was my personal favorite.)

I believe a few of my readers are slightly confused. _Deadly Idioms_ is not meant to be a serious, or even humorous, story. It is a parody or a crack!fic-a term I find more appropriate-a story supposedly written under the influence of some mind altering substance (in my case, it was just cold medicine). As for the reason everyone is dying off; this story was written in response to the NFA Crack!_Death_!fic challenge. So please, try not to find some meaning in it and enjoy!

* * *

Part 7: Buried Under a Mountain of Paperwork

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the song _Whistle While You Work_ composed by Frank Churchill with lyrics by Larry Morey.

They brought Gibbs back to NCIS just as workday was beginning. Not knowing what else to do, Tim returned to his desk. No one greeted him or offered condolences. In fact, no one made eye contact with him and several people crossed to the other side of the room when he walked in. They were avoiding him like the plague. Tim grimaced; he should probably make a point not to say that out loud. He remembered Tony's bout with the disease and has no desire to experience it himself.

Unsure of the proper procedure in this situation (what does one do when one's team, team leader and director are suddenly deceased?), Tim kept himself busy with the previous day's crime scenes. He called the evidence technicians to be sure that the late director's purchases had been cataloged. He frowned when no one answered his call; they were supposed to have someone on duty at all times during the workday. When he tried calling a second time, Jason answered.

"_Evidence Locker."_ The technician was out of breath.

"Jason, it's Tim McGee from MCRT. What's going on?"

_"I'm sorry we didn't get to the phone sooner; we've had a bit of a situation down here. What can I do for you?"_

"I just wanted to make sure that several items from the DiNozzo case had been logged into evidence. Yesterday was hectic and I was called away before Ray was finished."

"_Let me check the log."_ Jason paused. _"What is the case number?"_

"01123581321. I want to be sure that the clothing I brought in was added to the log."

"_What clothing?"_

"The clothing the director was wearing. It was in a white bag with black…"

"_You mean that's evidence?"_ Jason cut in.

"Yes, it is. Why?" Tim asked suspiciously.

_"Well, it didn't look like evidence. Gina found the bag outside the locker this morning. She'd always wanted to shop there, and when she saw the clothes were her size she tried them on. Jeff caught sight of her and passed out. That's what was distracting us; we had to call in the paramedics because we couldn't revive him."_

"You Klondike Bars! That isn't just clothing, that's the weapon that killed Agent DiNozzo!"

"_Really? I wonder why Jeff isn't dead."_

"Probably because Gina's not a red head. Please, get the clothes entered into the log and put them somewhere safe."

"_Will do."  
_

That settled, Tim began to review NCIS security tapes to determine how an anvil made it into the director's office without anyone noticing it.

Jimmy ran into the bullpen. "Tim!"

"Jimmy! It's good to see you, everyone up here is treating me like I'm a …" Tim stopped abruptly and nervously checked himself for patches of white skin. He let out a relieved sigh; no leprosy.

"Tim! I need your help." Jimmy was distraught.

"What is it?"

"It's Dr. Mallard. I came in from my morning classes and I can't find him."

"Maybe he took a break; it was his best friend that we brought in this morning."

"No, he's in autopsy, I called his cell phone and it rings in the room. He never goes anywhere without it. 'Never be unreachable' is his first rule."

"Well, then why can't you find him? There aren't too many places to hide in autopsy."

"Autopsy is overflowing with paperwork."

"What?"

"With all of the new forms Human Resources, Purchasing, and Legal are having us fill out in octuplicate, there was a small mountain of forms, folders, and files just waiting for his attention. Dr. Mallard must not have wanted to do the autopsy and started filling out the forms. The pile probably shifted overnight and buried him when he sat down."

"Let's go." Tim was out of his seat in a moment.

They rushed downstairs and skidded to a halt in front of autopsy. The sliding doors were propped open by a wave of papers that had cascaded out of the room when Jimmy opened the door.

"How did they get all of these forms in there?" Tim was flabbergasted.

"Legal has a mini loader that's just wide enough to fit through the hallway." Jimmy was wringing his hands. "Where could Dr. Mallard be?"

"Let's call his cell phone and head toward the noise. Hopefully, he'll be near it." Tim decided.

It was a slippery job; climbing over all of the papers to reach the place the ringing was loudest. When Tim decided they were right above the sound, they started digging through the files.

"I found a hand." Jimmy yelled.

"Check for a pulse." Tim crawled over. "Is he…?"

"It's too late." Jimmy bowed his head. After a moment, he looked up at Tim. "What do we do now?"

"We need to dig him out, then stack up all of these files so we can get him to the storage drawers and settle him with the others."

"That's going to take a lot of time." Jimmy slid backwards as he shifted his weight.

"Yeah, do you know something that could help?"

Jimmy smiled, picked up some files, and began to sing.

_Just whistle while you work_  
_And cheerfully together we can tidy up the place_  
_So hum a merry tune_  
_It won't take long when there's a song to help you set the pace_

Tim smiled back, gathered some loose papers, and took up the next verse.

_And as you sweep the room  
Imagine that the broom  
Is someone that you love  
And you'll find you're dancing to the tune  
_

They joined together for the chorus.

_When hearts are high  
The time will fly so  
Whistle while you work_

_So whistle while you work..._

"Do you know _Dixie_?"


	8. Torn to Pieces

Part 8: Torn to Pieces While Getting Down to Brass Tacks

A scene toward the end of this chapter was inspired by the masterful Monty Python movie, _The Holy Grail_.

Tim and Jimmy returned to the MCRT bullpen whistling the theme song from the Andy Griffith TV show. Other agents and NCIS employees gave them a wide berth seeing the slightly crazed look in their eyes, understandable though it might be.

"I think I'd like some coffee, Jimmy. Would you like some, too?" Tim asked.

"Lead the way; I could use the caffeine. For some reason, I didn't sleep well last night." Jimmy replied.

"I wonder why."

Tim poured cups of the coffee provided by NCIS for himself and Jimmy, making them palatable by adding a large portion of creamer and sugar. They sat down in front of the vending machines and stared at the steam coming from their cups.

"How are you boys doing today?" Thurman Atteberry, the night janitor, walked into the room.

"Thurman, you're here early." Tim greeted the older man.

"They've called me in to help them deal with the 'janitorial emergency.'" Thurman rolled his eyes.

"What emergency?"

"You mean you haven't noticed NCIS' streak of bad luck?"

"What does that have to do with the cleaning?" Jimmy was confused.

"Have you looked out any of the windows lately?"

"No, we've been in autopsy."

"Check this out." Thurman led them into the next room. The words 'bad luck' were written all over the windows in grease pen.

"When did this happen?" Tim couldn't believe he'd missed this, then remembered he'd entered the building through the evidence garage entrance this morning.

"No one knows. It just appeared on the windows this morning. Some one told me that the first year class at the academy was dared to do it as a prank. But when you combine it with all of yesterday's deaths, it's causing some panic."

"Why did they call you in, can't the day crew deal with this?" Tim asked.

"People are scared and they're calling in sick. They seem to think that they'll be infected with some of the bad luck you've been having lately."

"What about you?" Jimmy asked Thurman.

"I don't believe in luck." He smiled. "It's kind of funny; those who can't stay away from work have brought in lucky charms to protect them."

"Like what?" Jimmy was curious.

"Rabbits. You'll notice a lot of people have them at their desks."

"Rabbits?"

"Nikki Jardine brought them in. She says that a rabbit's foot alone might be lucky, but it'll bring you even more luck if the rabbit is still alive and attached to it. After all, these rabbits weren't killed to make key chain ornaments."

"Where did she get them?" Tim couldn't imagine the germophobic analyst having anything to do with living, sniffling, salivating creatures.

"She went over to the Navy R&D building and liberated the lab animals."

"Why aren't people using four leaf clovers? They're smaller and they won't defecate on your desk." Jimmy wanted to know.

"Yeah, well, Michelle Lee was wearing one when a case she was working on went down in flames. She died of smoke inhalation before anyone discovered that she'd been locked in a conference room. That's when Nikki brought in the bunnies. As long as they clean up after their pets, I think it's rather cute."

As Tim and Jimmy made their way from the break room to the bullpen, they saw almost every person with a bunny on their desk, often chewing on celery or lettuce or, in one case, a progress report.

Jimmy flopped down at Tony's desk. Tim sat down at his own and covertly looked for signs of grief on the younger man's face; rumor had it that he and Michelle had been close. Jimmy had the same glassy stare that he'd worn since discovering Ducky's body. He must be as overwhelmed as Tim was by the events of the last few days to be feeling much of anything right now.

"What are we going to do now? Should we even try to do anything?" Jimmy spoke listlessly.

"I would guess that Assistant Director Vance should be flying in to make some decisions."

Just as the words left Tim's mouth, the assistant director stepped out of the elevator and a bright red cape unfurled behind him. He raised his arm and sprang into the air, circling over the bullpen to survey the area and frowning in disapproval of the rabbit kennel on the side of the room before zipping over to land in front of Tim and Jimmy.

"That was amazing! Where are your tights?" Jimmy blurted out while Tim's mouth hung open in shock.

Vance fixed the young man with a frosty glare and Tim closed his mouth to step in and save his friend from freezing. "Sir, I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee and this is the Assistant to the Medical Examiner Jimmy Palmer. Welcome to Washington, DC."

Vance acknowledged the introductions with a nod. "Good afternoon, Agent McGee, Mr. Palmer. The SecNav briefed me on the events of yesterday and today. May I extend my condolences to you both? NCIS has lost some valuable personnel, but you lost mentors, partners, and friends."

Tim nodded in agreement, unsure if he should speak. Jimmy continued to stare at the assistant director as if waiting for him to start glowing or to shoot laser beams across the room. Tim wasn't sure that Jimmy had escaped completely unscathed from chilly stare he'd received from Vance.

Vance continued, "I'm sorry to be blunt, but as things stand I need to take over operation of NCIS immediately. So let's get down to brass tacks, while I know you're torn apart by the deaths of your coworkers…"

Tim and Jimmy looked at each other in horror. "No!" They yelled together.

The pure white rabbit on Agent Simmons desk took that moment to turn rogue. The animals had been part of a study on emotional control and had been injected with an experimental serum. The white bunny's eyes glowed red, fangs pushed through his gums, and he leapt out of the arms of the startled agent holding him. A deep growl in his throat signaled a change in the other rabbits around the room. In an instant, they transformed and charged the trio. Vance evaded them by soaring into the air and Tim jumped aside, but Jimmy, still overcome by all of the events of the day, wasn't quick enough to evade the enraged animals and was torn limb from limb.

Moments later, the rabbits had returned to normal and were sniffling around the floor looking for lettuce. Vance landed and turned to Tim only to start back in horror. Tim had jumped aside to avoid the rabbits only to be impaled by a number of extremely long brass tacks from a box that Cynthia had cleaned out of Jenny's office and dropped when she tripped in surprise at the rabbits' transformation.

Assistant Director Vance looked around. "It looks like I'll be starting with a clean slate; maybe we should have someone in to clean the carpets, too."

End


End file.
